


Rescue

by Kit_SummerIsle



Series: War Brides [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Violence, barbarian au, city Autobots, culture clash, mate-napping, tribal Decepticons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3758587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hound becomes party in an impromptu rescue mission he doesn't really believe in. Barbarian AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue

“I want to have Mirage back! I don’t care how. I don’t care what it takes. I won’t accept that he’s taken!”

The council was silent after the unnatural outburst of Dominus from where he sat. The blue and gold mech’s optics brightened to nearly white, his vents heaved and elegant, black-gold servos gripped the council table strong enough to dent. From the always composed noblemech it was as much show of emotion as the Council has ever seen.

“Dominus… we can’t. We simply don’t have…”

“Whatever we don’t have, we buy! I pay for it!”

He could, they all knew. Dominus was richer than the rest of the city put together and for his only creation and heir… he would spend it. There was only one problem…

“Dominus, we can’t buy what is not for sale. We don’t have mechs who know the desert enough and able to find a single nomadic tribe.”

“Then buy it from another barbaric tribe! I want it done! Now!”

The silence was complete in the Altihex chambers, councilmechs looking at each other incredulously. In the end they all glanced at the so far silent Elder, Gamma Trion. If anymech, he can make the noble understood how impossible it was.

“We do not have contacts with the tribes.”

“Make one!”

“They kill our mechs before any offer could be made. Dominus… Much as we all understand your grief, we cannot sacrifice our mechs in an impossible mission. We don’t even know for sure that you creation was taken and not simply killed.”

Dominus stared back at the Elder, optics still overbright and lacking any attempt to accept the realities.

“He lives. And I will find the way.” – he promised them in an ice-cold tone that made many of the Councilmechs shudder – “When I have done so, I’ll see that a capable Council takes the place of this impotent one.”

He rose suddenly and with measured steps left the silent chambers.

Less than a joor later a placard appeared in all public places, offering an unimaginable ten thousand credits for any mechs skilled in desert survival or able to provide information on nomad tribes. Mechs flooded the appointed agency’s office, but their numbers dwindled down fast as their actual knowledge was checked and the goal explained to them. By the end of the orn only three mechs sat with the agent for a final check before they were let into the noble house of Dominus to finalize a plan.

Hound considered himself incredibly lucky to be in Altihex at the right time to apply for the job. He was there only because the migration of the electric snakes that he followed to their rain-cycle nesting places and when the herd arrived to the canyons near Altihex, the scout decided to replenish his supplies in the city. The offered credits would cover his expenses for vorns, so there was no question in his processor to take the job. An unusual one for sure, but his job would be only to keep the other two safe from the dangerous predators while they travelled in the desert, which was far less dangerous still than the others’. 

The weathered old army officer he could even understand. Kup was older than any mech he knew and if just half his stories were to be believed he saw danger in any form Cybertron could offer it – and lived to tell the tales. He even had the dozens of scars to prove what might be empty boasting from another mech. If any city-mech could hope to approach a nomad tribe and not cut to pieces in two kliks flat – it was Kup. 

The smaller and obviously civilian mech who was their third member was harder to understand, especially seeing how terrified he was just by hearing Kup’s tales. Smaller than them both with a weak and faded armor and a clear lack of any fighting skills, the mech looked the last thing to be sent into the dangers of the desert and the nomad tribes. But Kindle was the expert on nomad culture, amassing information so far nomech cared to read, from sources that baffled both Hound and Kup. How a mech who had never left the city proper, hardly even the library itself could know everything from tribal culture was a veritable mystery. He kept his precious datapads jealously close to himself though, answering to each question clearly, but never giving away his source.

Dominus stared hard at the small, emanciated mech, but Kindle didn’t budge. He wouldn’t part from his datapads, no matter how much the noble would be willing to pay for them. He wanted to go and see what he wrote down was actually the correct information. Hound had to intervene if he wanted to keep the discussion on track.

“Lord Dominus, we should discuss the plan first. The two of us can keep Kindle safe through the journey.”

Kup nodded, his cygar out of sight to defer to the noblemech’s wishes.

“What do we have to do? What exactly did happen?””

Dominus visibly calmed himself, wearing his well-bred outright calm like a robe. He nodded to Kup haughtily but started to describe the events.

“Mirage was out turbofox hunting with his friends two orns ago. They ran into a nomad party and were attacked without any provocation. Two of them were immediately killed, but the rest managed to shoot the nomads with their hunting rifles. Mirage was seen to be hit by a blade and go down, but the injury was not life-threatening. The nomad party was small, no more than five mechs and they retreated from the weaponsfire. His partners found and brought back the frames of the other two mechs but not his. He had to be taken by the nomads, for what nomech can guess.”

Kindle interrupted him with bright optics.

“I do! The nomads practice ritual kidnapping of their mates. That’s the only reason they take a mech alive for!”

Dominus stared at him like he was a nomad himself. Hound was no less surprised, but Kup appeared to be nodding to the academics.

“Aye, lads. They do that. Rarely take city-mechs tho’.”

“M-mates…?” – the noblemech looked more unsettled than ever since they saw him.

“Yes! The kidnapped mechs become their mates.”

“But that’s… preposterous! Impossible!”

Hound was again the voice of reason, because Kup looked like he might start to laugh at the incredulous face of the noblemech. Or worse, start to tell a tale again.

“Kindle… how long before it is… ummm.. done?”

“As soon as they are in their camp. The one who kidnapped him takes him into his tent and so they become mates.”

“So they… ummm… actually consummate it right away?”

Hound knew he had to ask. Dominus was still shocked and he was the one deciding the mission. If his creation was taken, claimed or whatever they called it here, the rescue-attempt would be in vain for the noble.

“Yes, the captives, I mean mates are taken right away. Bonding comes much later, though I don’t know if it’s practicality or tradition. I’m eager to find out that.”

“I want him back! Taken…” – Dominus looked pained but he was slowly collecting himself – “…or not, I want him rescued before he is bonded to that… barbarian!”

They started out the next light cycle after half an orn’s careful preparations and stocking up as much supplies as possible. Kindle pored over the whole dark cycle the crude reproduction of the tribal markings Mirage’s friends remembered, checking them against his collection and narrowed down the possible tribe in question to three. Still more than Hound felt comfortable with and Kup actually looked worried about one of them – the Predacon tribe looked more than half terrifying mechanimal and not even Kindle could tell if they were actually mechs governed by developed processors or just a mechanimal herd with some more developed traits. If Mirage was taken by them, he might be more food by this time than mate, but Hound didn’t mention this. The others in the hunting party would surely have mentioned their attackers looking like… dragons?

Dominus also wanted a whole army to go with them, but this idea Kup and Hound both shot down decisively. If the nomads found them with an army, they were sure dead. Their chance was to slip through the paths of the nomads undetected, unnoticed, not considered a threat, the way Hound has always got through them – and when they found Mirage get him to cooperate with them to help him escape. Brute force, Kup explained to the angry noblemech, was on the barbarians’ side. They had to use finesse against them. 

Kindle surprised them again in the morning by producing an actual map of the desert – the very first of such Hound has ever seen and he had searched for one for as long as he started roaming the plains. The thing probably worth more than the whole city of Altihex – and Kindle, a poor and dusty librarian had it hidden in his possession. It was drawn by servo on an actual mechanimal hide, signifying that it was probably a nomad mech who did it vorns ago – the faint lines that were etched into the folded hide were worn and in many places hard to see, the ideographic markings on it a system even Kindle couldn’t read, only some of the tribal glyps.

But it was drawn with plenty of pictures too that they could mostly understand. The cities were identified with their main buildings – Hound easily recognized Iacon’s main dome as it could be seen from outside the walls, and also Altihex’s towers and a few of the cities he visited. Kindle also pointed out several others they knew by their names and even Kup added to their collection – the old mech visited the most places of any mech Hound knew. The mountain ranges were also clearly recognizable, as the map was surprisingly accurate. Hound suspected that only fliers could make such an accurate map, but he couldn’t be sure. The map represented a knowledge that revised his opinion about the nomads upwards by much.

That left the marked paths of the individual tribes. Here their collected knowledge was lacking and the faint lines the most unrecognizable. Kindle postulated that even though the tribes wandered, their paths followed certain rules and they repeated certain routes during their wanderings. Like the Predacon tribe has always stayed close to the mountain ranges and ravines and rarely ever went to the true deserts; or the Decepticon tribe stayed close to the Southern cities and there was mentions of trade with them; or that the Bruticus tribe always shadowed the herds of rotorbulls that they preferred hunting. The Praxian tribe followed a route with almost mathematical precision by which they roamed the land.

Hundreds of such wandering lines crisscrossed the map. Smaller tribes, like the Minicons wandered very little, their lines on the map covering only a small area. Larger tribes, especially with fliers in them covered nearly the whole of the planet. The unknown mech who drew the map also assigned clearly understandable markings to the relative strength of the tribes too. The map was valuable beyond belief. Hound didn’t even try to buy it off of Kindle – even Dominus probably did not have that sort of riches. But he crammed as much of its knowledge into his memory banks as he could. It could well mean his life or death in his work. 

“We should check the mechanimal marks first. According to the map, some of the tribes prefer to hunt specific game. We can narrow down the possible tribes.”

“Lead on, lad.” – Kup said in his always cheerful way. Kindle just glowered at the desert and drew his robe tight around his thin and worn armor to keep the sharp wind out. 

Hound led them to the place of the attack, but told them to stay back until he finished – the prints were scuffed enough by this time, no need to walk all over them any more. By the time he was ready, Hound was a bit more optimistic.

“There are no Predacon paw-prints, which is a relief.”

“Ye’re right lad. Those creeps give me the shudders.”

“That leaves the Menasor tribe and the Decepticon. They both have markings like the witnesses observed… and rather sloppily described.”

“Kindle, give them a little slack. They were fighting for their lives.”

“Nevertheless, the descriptions are incredibly imprecise.”

Hound and Kup glanced at each other and stifled a laugh. The librarian was the most oblivious mech to the realities of life they saw. Came from sitting in his chamber all the time, knowing existence from datapads only, Hound supposed…

“Let’s go then. They didn’t hide their tracks at all.” – Hound was in charge of their little party while traveling – “We travel until dark and then put up the shelter.”

Hound hoped that the shelter was sturdy enough to withstand the desert winds and rain and camouflaged enough for any nomads to miss it. It was made in the city by mech who never had to test its construction under real conditions and entrust their lives to it.

They travelled after the group for three orns when the tracks joined to the larger group of the tribe and went on for a while before Kup noticed the tops of the shelters in the distance. They had reached the tribe’s camp. This close they had a chance to reach Mirage by comm – if he still had it.

::Hound to Mirage. We come from Altihex. Please answer.::

Hound hoped that the young noblemech still had his comm working and they were within its range. Without it their job would be much harder.

::Mrg… Mira..ksht.. hr…whos thr::

“Let’s get a bit closer… I can barely hear him and his voice is breaking up in static”

They circled the camp to find any sort of cover, but the best were some dunes south of the camp. Not much of a cover, but with the shelter’s camouflage they might stay unnoticed, Hound hoped.

::Mirage, we are from Altihex. Can you hear us?::

::Can. But not now. The nomad’s here.::

::Comm us when he’s gone::

Mirage contacted them a joor later, his voice rasping with static that Hound was sure didn’t come from the connection.

::He’s left. Who are you? My Sire sent you?::

::Hound, Kup and Kindle. Yes, Lord Dominus sent us to free you.::

::Thank Primus…::

::Do you know which tent you’re in? Or what your captor looks like?::

::I haven’t seen the camp. Been tied up in here. Large mech, truck alt, black. A brute.::

::Has he… umm…?::

::Raped me?:: - the bitterness was clearly perceivable in the young noble’s tone - ::Yes, he did. Several times.::

::I’m sorry. Are you injured?::

::No. Sore, tired, hungry… but not injured. He keeps insisting that I’m his ‘mate’.::

::It’s their custom. But he hasn’t tried to bond with you?::

::NO, thank Primus. I’d kill myself first.::

::Hold on. We’ll try to free you:::

::The sooner the better…:: - Mirage appeared to gain some spark from their presence - ::My disruptor is gone, I can’t turn invisible. But I have a knife I stole from his stock. Not much of a weapon, but I can cut my bindings if I have some time. But he never leaves the tent for long.::

::We’ll make a plan. Please… stay strong.::

Hound felt for the young noble, more so than he had thought he would. He relayed the information what he gained to Kup and they started to covertly observe the camp and the goings of the mechs in and out. The big, black mech wasn’t hard to see as the nomad hunting party arrived back to the camp some time later. He was the tallest of them and obviously an important mech in the tribe. If not the chieftain. He ducked into one of the tents among the others, a large one.

“There… that tent with the poles around.”

“Slag. It’s in the middle of the camp. How in Primus will we get there an’ out?”

“There must be a time when most mechs are out hunting… or on a raid.”

“Won’t work.” – Kindle interrupted them – “The warrior gets excused from raids while he tames his new mate. They barely leave their tents during this phase.”

“Double slag.”

“Lad… can ya project the image of Mirage with that holoprojector of yours?”

“I can… but not far. They would find me fast and I’m not suicidal.”

“Another nomad then? You could walk in there in that disguise.”

“The warrior would certainly take it as a challenge if someone entered his tent.” – Kindle added. – “An attempt to take his mate.”

“I mean when he’s not in there!” - Kup was oddly… cheerful, considering the situation.

“Wait, wait… you mean I should just walk in the middle of the camp, among all the nomads, enter their chief’s tent while he barely leaves it for a breem and… then what? Run with Mirage while the tribe just watches us get away?”

Hound stared at the old warrior incredulously. It sounded like some of his tales, nearly impossible, certainly foolish… and he started to get the idea that Kup was… not quite right in the processor.

“Aye. I mean the last part needs a bit more flair, but… yeah. It’s a plan.”

“It’s a plan that has a high chance of getting us killed!”

“Yeah, but if ye pull it off, then it’ll be a great tale to tell.”

“I prefer to live to telling any tales, thank you.”

To Hound’s greatest astonishment – and not a little dismay – Kup and Kindle actually started to discuss the idiocy they called a plan, like it was a doable thing. They kinda ignored him too when he objected strongly. All too soon Hound realized that if he wanted a plan that had just a grain of a chance, he’d have to make it himself. 

“Okay. Stop it. I have a much better plan and I intend to go through it, so you two had better listen.”

Kup looked annoyed – probably at his insolent tone, but Hound didn’t care much about his anger at this point – but Kindle at least was willing to listen.

“See those cyberhounds all around the camp? I’ll project an image of one such onto myself and wander into the camp. Then I’ll make the cyberhound image lay down at the side of that tent, like it’s sunning. I can contact Mirage then and when the nomad leaves the tent, I can cut the mesh, free Mirage and conceal him with the cyberhound projection while we leave the camp.”

“Now, that’s a fine plan too. Not as heroic as I would like, but… well, I suppose it’s your armor in the fire.”

“I’m so glad that you approve.”

“Won’t the cyberhounds notice that you’re a fake?”

“I think no. The nomads breed and tame them for strength, so their sense of smell is worse than the ones nobles keep. And I know well enough how they move and behave.”

“Well then. What are you waiting for?”

“Umm, it would be nice if you were both ready when we come back. And give me ample warning if the nomad goes back to the tent.”

“Sure, we’ll do that.”

“I’m certain that there will be a pursuit once the nomad finds out the truth.”

“We’ll hurry then.”

“In fact it’d be better if we stayed low at the nearby caves and go back by a circuitous path. The nomads probably expect Mirage and his rescuers to go straight back to Altihex and go after us on that route.”

“I suppose ye’re right, lad.”

Hound waited until the sun started to go down and the cyberhounds settled, like so many coarse boulder on the hard ground. Then he nervously assumed his flimsy disguise, going onto all fours to give his holoprojector less to cover up. Slowly, like he was wandering aimlessly, he went into the nomad camp, going towards the targeted tent. After some steps, he realized that under the disguise he was shaking all over and his vents became labored. Hound actually had to stop to bring his vents and limbs back under control – the worry and danger of being in the middle of the feared nomad camp was not an easy thing to dispel… 

He forced him to go the last few, shaky steps towards the big tent, avoiding the rest of the beasts, circling the shelter so he was on the far side from the entrance flap. When he arrived, Hound was actually glad to be able to flop down to the ground, tightly holding onto the holoprojection and its movement. His shaking subsided slowly and when his spark stopped spinning madly, Hound dared to think again and contact the young noble.

::Mirage?::

::not…now…::

Hound grimaced at the tight, pained tone. He could well imagine what the noble… or rather his captor was doing, though he didn’t really want to see the mental images. He faintly heard some sounds from the inside, though the camp’s general noises mostly covered the details, for which he was also glad. The nomad’s deep, gruff voice was audible, though the actual words melted together. He had to wait for half a joor before the noises stopped and after a few, tense breems of silence the tent flap swung outwards and a huge, black mech stepped out. Hound made his holoimage as unmoving and insignificant as he could. The black mech awakened a deep, dreadful fear in him. 

::Hound…?::

::I’m here. Actually next to the tent mesh on the back side.::

::Are you crazy???::

::I have a holoprojector. The nomads see a cyberhound sunning here. Though you might be right anyway. Are you bound?::

::Ohh… yes, I’m bound to a pole in the middle.::

::Coming in.::

Hound switched comms and contacted Kup.

::Warn us immediately if the nomad is coming back!::

“Aye, lad, I’ll do that. Dontcha get your transistors inna bunch.::

Hound scowled and swore never to team up with the nearly senile, mostly crazy mech again. His knife cut a neat hole into the mesh, large enough so they could move out, but small enough to be able to cover up. The cyberhound stayed where it lay down, while Hound cautiously crawled into the tent. 

What he was assaulted immediately, was the smell. It was awful and Hound was not a prissy noble to begin with. Unwashed frames, rancid oils, rusting mechanimal parts… it was way worse than even his worst imagination ever painted a nomad tent to him. In the middle, a sturdy strut held up the tent and Hound saw a slender, blue frame bound to it by the servos. Obviously Mirage, his noble background and lines all the more shocking contrast to the cluttered, dirty, dark and smelly interior he was in.

“Hound?”

Hound squatted beside him and nodded quietly, his knife already at work on the intricate knots that bound the noblemech up. He tried to ignore the mess on the blue thighs, the obvious sign of what happened mere breems ago. It was surprisingly hard. The sight awakened a strange sort of fury inside him, one directed towards the nomad… no, concentrate, Hound, keep the projection, keep to the plan…

“Yeah, me. Can you move?”

“I’m sore and stiff, but I think I can.”

Hound glanced apologetically at the noble.

“We have to crawl on all fours. My holoprojector is stretched thin as it is to cover the two of us.”

“It’s nothing. After all this…”

He gestured around and his tone was bitter. Hound didn’t blame him.

“Come. We have to hurry. The nomad never leaves for long.”

“I know.”

::Ye might wanna hurry, Hound! The nomad is about to enter the tent!::

Slag… slagslagslag! Ample warning indeed, but Hound had no time to feel fury towards Kup, because the tent flap has moved and he had just enough time to throw up an image of a chest over himself, while he pushed Mirage back to the ground. A huge, mostly black mech stepped over the tent’s edge, paused for a klik as his gaze swept over the inside and Hound’s spark tried to spin out of his chest in fright. What the frag should they do now? He was not going to calmly watch the barbarian rape Mirage in front of him but he couldn't fight such a huge mech! He had to admit, the young noble had a composure – in a klik he appeared to be as helplessly bound to the pole as he was before Hound came in.

The nomad warrior frowned, but appeared to dismiss his suspicions, when Mirage moaned and his frame writhed on the ground in a display that made Hound’s core temperature rise sharply. What the frag…? The black mech knelt by his captive and stroked the elegant lines of his helm in a gesture almost… gentle. Hound could only stare when Mirage forced a little smile on his lips and leaned into the touch, bared his neck to him… and he only came to his senses, when the noblemech cast a sharp glance at him beside the giant’s helm. Of course…! Though it still shocked the scout how well Mirage played his role in his situation, he now knew what the noblemech meant. They could only leave the tent alive if the nomad was deactivated.

Mirage’s arms wound themselves around black shoulders and the nomad still didn’t get suspicious - his lust must have made him careless. Hound silently deactivated the holoimage and drew his pistol, the only weapon he found even nearly adequate against the huge mech. He wasn’t a very good shot, but then, it was barely more than a mechanometer. He lifted the pistol when Mirage glanced at him again, impatient nudging burning in his optics, the small knife’s blade flashed in his servo.

Hound targeted the back of the nomad, hoping that his small weapon could breach the black armor. Ex-venting nervously he shot, the noise of the pistol incredibly loud in his overexcited audials. The nomad mech shouted, Mirage tried to muffle his mouth and the noise as he flailed over the young noble. Energon splashed from his back, so the shot must have hit something – but he was still very much alive and Hound didn’t dare to shoot again in fear of accidentally shooting Mirage.

But the noble didn’t wait for the next shot. Hound saw the small blade rise and with a deft precision slide under the helm’s rim, into the nomad’s neck. Mirage appeared to be frightfully well-versed in taking a life to the scout. And taking the life he did, slicing the knife’s blade through the throat until the muffled shouts became incoherent gurgling and energon spouted from the wound as well. Hound grabbed the suddenly limp frame and heaved it away from Mirage… and they sat there for a couple of nervous kliks, panting and watching the graying frame, trying to take control of their frantic emotions and trembling limbs.

“It’s over…” 

Mirage whispered and it sobered up Hound too. 

“We must go now.”

They had to keep uncomfortably close, their plating flush to each other and feeling each other’s still racing sparks as they crawled out of the tent and the ‘cyberhound’ slowly started to make its way out of the camp. The hole on the tent was clearly visible now, but Hound hoped that it would not be noticed for a little more time. Freedom was closer by every crawled mechanometer, every stray scrap cutting their servos or knee-joints, every puff of dust the ‘cyberhound’s paws raised from the ground. Hound has never felt a few hundred mechanometers so long.

::Come on lad, ye almost here! I see a commotion inside the camp! Run!”

::Right…::

As if they weren’t tired, sore, terrified and winded by the unnatural means of locomotion. They tried to speed up still, as by this time Hound and probably Mirage too heard shouting and roars from the camp. The small, camouflaged shelter was mere mechanometers away and they were both panting when its door opened and two sets of servos unceremoniously dragged them inside and shut the entrance. They were safe. Well, sort of. Now they had to hope that the nomads missed them in their search, because to pack up and move before the night cycle fell would be instant suicide. 

“Silence!” – the nomads’ hearing was their most developed sense, at least according to Kindle.

It was the tensest, most uncomfortable two joors of Hound’s life. Mirage was alternately relieved to be free and frantic when noises appeared to come closer, sticking close to Hound, which the scout didn’t complain about. Kup listened intently to the noises and almost starting a story every breem, before Hound shut him up. Kindle also listened, but he also took notes, like he did nearly every klik since they were around the camp. The librarian was the only one not even remotely afraid that the nomads should find them… Hound had a sneaking suspicion that he would even enjoy being captured, so he could extend his knowledge of the nomads.

“I’m dirty. Absolutely… slagging filthy!”

Mirage’s next outburst came when the dark fell and the noises of the nomad search abated somewhat and he still kept the sound level down. The young noble stared at his own plating like he’d love to shed them and melt the pieces to slag. Shudders wracked his frame periodically.

“We’ll be back to Altihex in a few orns. A decaorn at most.”

“I’ll never feel clean again…”

Mirage whispered and Hound knew that he didn’t mean just the dirt. There were scars there, not on his plating, but inside. Hound didn’t often felt philosophical, but this time his spark just went out for the younger mech and he wanted to embrace him. But he knew that his touch would not be welcomed. It would not even be proper… Mirage was, after all was said and done a noble and way beyond Hound’s circles. 

They spent a very uncomfortable, strained few joors before the noise from the camp died down and Hound felt it safe to move. Even so, they moved slowly and quietly, spoke nothing – though for Kup it was a near thing sometimes – and sneaked away among the low dunes to the opposite way Altihex lay. Hound was glad for the dunes anyhow – the desert grounds held pede prints far better than the ever-shifting small grains of the dunes, meaning they had a good chance of getting away undiscovered. For two orns they moved in the sand and by the end every one of them hated it going into joints, under armor and into their supplies.

The caves were an entirely new environment and a welcome one. Lit by glow-beetles, blessedly cooler than the sun-scorched dunes, low-ceilinged enough that most nomads would find it uncomfortable – and free of the sand and dust. They even dared to talk on normal levels and Hound didn’t imagine shouts and running pedes coming after them every breem.

“Thank you.” – Mirage said after they got comfortable in the semi-dark cave – “I’m indebted for you. I thought… I thought noone would come after me.”

“You Sire was… adamant. He spared no expense getting you back. And you were no slouch either back in that tent.”

To Hound it was interesting how Mirage scowled at that. Maybe… maybe despite of the effort, the relationship between the nobles weren’t as great as it seemed. But he said nothing, so Hound didn’t either. It wasn’t his problem, wasn’t his business. They could help Mirage no more after freeing him, no more than he allowed to.

The orns went slow in the cave, even with Kup’s myriad of stories. They were great to dispel the awkwardness, but Hound was kinda fed up after the first dozen or so. Hound sneaked out every time the dark cycle came, and he saw no nomads near and far, so it appeared that their tactic was successful. 

“We will start back to Altihex next orn. We go west first to avoid the tribe’s camp and possible path if they move.”

Mirage seemed a bit relieved to be able to go home, though not really happy. This evening, it was Kup who insisted on going out to scout and Hound had a sneaky suspicion that the old warrior missed action and a more active part in their adventure – if for nothing else, but to spin a tale about it, so he let him. Kindle was completely immersed in his notes after asking Mirage a thousand uncomfortable questions.

“Are you… all right, Mirage?”

“Not really, no. But better.”

“You don’t seem to be very happy to go home.”

Mirage glanced at him and Hound lifted a brow-plate.

“I guess you don’t know nobles much.” – he stated in a dry tone.

“Not my circles, no. I’m from Iacon by the way.”

“I’m sure my Sire will be happy to see me back… but he won’t like me being taken and by a barbarian at that. It means I’m… unclean and not many will want to bond with me after this. The family’s standings will suffer.”

Hound stared. He could understand it, but it still sounded pretty cruel.

“But you couldn’t help it…”

“It doesn’t matter much. The fact that it was a barbarian matters far more. Many won’t want to touch me after… him. And I don’t even know his fragging designation!”

Kindle lifted his helm from his datapad at Mirage’s outburst and interrupted them.

“If I transcribe these glyphs from the tent you described correctly it’s Motormaster or near so.”

“That sounds like that brute all right.”

“You know, I had a feeling he didn’t even want me. I’m not sure if it makes the whole thing worse or not, but… it felt like he didn’t want a city-mech.”

“Then why did he take you?”

“Nomads don’t often kidnap citymechs.” – Kindle supplied again – “They usually stick to their tribe or other tribesmechs. But maybe a hunting party roused their interest. It’s not something we do often. He might have thought that a hunter would make a good mate.”

“Great… my ultimate value: be a good huntsmech for a nomad and clean his fragging tent.”

“I think you have a great many more good qualities than that.”

Hound wasn’t sure what made him say the compliment. Mirage looked equally surprised.

“Well, thanks… but you don’t even know me.”

“I mean, what a nomad thinks of you is… not really of consequence. You even got revenge on him. Or what the other nobles think. They sound just as narrow-minded to me as the barbarian.”

Hound’s spark spun a little faster at the small smile that appeared on Mirage’s faceplates. 

“I do wish they’d think more like you… Hound. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing…”

“I think we can stay in contact after we go back. You study mechanimals, right? My Sire can’t protest that.”

“I’d be glad to.”

He didn’t have to hurry back to Iacon, Hound thought dazedly, has he? Altihex appeared to be… interesting suddenly.


End file.
